Being Alive
by simplyKlaine
Summary: Kurt plays his audition song to his family. He could sing it flawlessly, right?


**A/N: I had a lot of feelings for 'Being Alive' and I want to attempt a songfic. Do me a favor and listen/imagine Kurt singing Being Alive in this oneshot.**

Kurt's long fingers felt the ivory keys of the grand piano, now dusted and cleaned (and sanitized), sitting at his apartment casually like an obnoxious visiting drugged relative that only came begging for money from time to time. It, too, was begging. A silent plea for someone to hammer its keys and make some noise out of the dark silence.

"Do you still know how to play?" Burt smiled at the piano, recollecting the times when Elizabeth was teaching little Kurt, often playfully lecturing Kurt's short fingers that were unable to reach notes. He had diligently pulled his little fingers every night, hoping they would grow quickly and play a song for his mommy. He laid in bed, head close to his mother's chest, telling her that he would play a birthday song for her next week.

He did not have the chance.

He didn't even grow his fingers yet.

Kurt snapped out of his memory, smiling at the piano that only held beautiful memories. "Of course. A potential NYADA student needs to learn some instrument. Only a piano can suit my elegance. A violin too but you know, the finger callouses.." He wrinkled his nose, rubbing his palms together.

"Play something for us Kurt!" Carole piped up, turning over from the couch she was in. Finn dragged a stray chair over, clapping loudly and cheering.

"Dude play that song you sang at the audition!"

"Not the boy next door? I need my gold lame pants they're in Ohio-" Kurt's mind was thinking of all sorts of gold pants alternatives, he wouldn't pass up a chance to sing that again! But maybe his pants should be that tight this time..

"No dude, the one which got you _in _to NYADA. I heard it was like, really really awesome."

"Oh. Right. Of course." Kurt looked at the keys, he could see his fingers dancing across the keyboard, the notes that flow one after another, the rhythm he could pull and push to his liking. It was so inviting, almost seductive. He sat down, foot at the gold pedal, fingers positioned at their first notes.

He would have to suppress the bubbling feelings of melancholy in his chest. It was a family performance, but he needs to be perfect, no matter what. He cleared his throat gently, warming up a little, and closed his eyes, letting his fingers bounce on the heavy keys. The first notes trebled through his small apartment, loud and clear like it was 10 years ago.

_**Someone to hold you too close**_

His voice was soothing and deep, just like his audition. He had gotten tired of his higher register recently, he wondered why. A picture of Blaine flashed behind his closed eyes; it was a picture of them after their first night. Blaine was looking at him with soft but intense eyes, full of love.. He realized he had paused too long for the first line.

_**Someone to hurt you too deep**_

"_I was with someone.. It was just a hookup, 'kay?"_

No. Please. No. He willed the tears in.

_**Someone to sit in your chair, to ruin your sleep**_

"_Wakey wake Kurt! I made you breakfast!" Blaine grinned, much to Kurt's dismay. Beauty sleep is very important, thank you._

"_Blaine, it's 7am.."_

_**Someone to need you too much**_

"_Blaine?" Burt looked, shocked at the curly headed mess Blaine was in, eyes puffy and red, only whispering a mere 'kurt..' before breaking down in front of him. Kurt's heart broke at the sight._

_**Someone to know you too well.**_

"_A grande non-fat mocha for this guy.."_

_**Someone to pull you up short, to put you through hell**_

"_Snapping your fingers won't make your cheesecake come any faster, Kurt. And to be completely honest, I don't like that every conversation has to be about New York."_

He felt his eyes fill up, but he continued on.

_**Someone you have to let in**_

_**Someone whose feelings you spare**_

_**Someone who like it or not; who'd want you to share, a little, a lot.**_

_Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. The song was undeniably all about Blaine._

_**Someone to crowd you with love**_

_The cuddles, the soft kisses they shared under the mistletoe, the times he'd woken up to Blaine kissing his neck. The times he wound his scarf around Kurt's neck when he was freezing his butt off so Kurt could be a little warmer._

His voice trembled at the memories flooding back in that he tried so hard to throw to the back of his mind. It was attacking him, springing tears that brimmed over the edge.

_**Someone to force to you care.**_

_**Someone to make you come through**_

_**Will always be there as frightened as you**_

_**Of being alive**_

_**Being Alive**_

_**Somebody hold me too close**_

No amount of will could hold back his tears, his voice was choking up, but he just couldn't fight the feeling of loneliness and the warmth of being _in love. _It was stupid, he didn't need to feel like this. But he did. He craved for it too much.

_**Somebody hurt me too deep**_

_**Somebody sit in my chair and ruin my sleep**_

_He knew he wouldn't be able to make it to the end of the song._

_**And make me aware of being alive**_

_**Being alive**_

_**Being a..**_

_He choked, fingers stilling on the keyboard as the last notes drifted into nothingness. _His resolve crumbled, a soft sob wrecking through his torso with his back turned away from the sorrowful familial eyes. His fingers slid off the piano in shame, feeling his tears burn on the back of his hand that laid lifelessly in his lap, trembling. A palm tried to muffled his sobs, and Burt's familiar arms hugged him, only making him sob harder.

He had never gotten over the breakup. He had never gotten over his mother's death. He had never gotten over the emotional scars that bruised him over and over again since he was a child. Sometimes he wished for a little bit more love in the world.

Sometimes he wished, he wasn't so alive.


End file.
